


The Way Light Falls

by destinae



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, but not sherlock because i hate sherlock and everything it did to my crops, domestic AU, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7779148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinae/pseuds/destinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble, because I was emotional about my favorite heathen lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Light Falls

     It was a Saturday morning, and Sebastian had no assignments.

     Sunlight reached lazily through a nearby window, throwing itself across the body of Sebastian and his lover, onto the floor and against the far wall. The smell of linens and detergent and woodsy shampoo filled the room, and Sebastian shifted. He wrapped his arm gently around Moriarty’s waist, and things came together. Gentle cotton brushed his bare chest and he pressed his lips into James’s hair, cradling the other man’s head.

     Outside the window, a familiar world came to life. Cars cruised by and pedestrians chattered, but all the world’s noise couldn’t make it through thin glass and chiffon drapes.  _ This space is for love _ , the drapes said. And so it was. And then James, who stirred under the wrinkled bedsheets, stifled a yawn and turned his head up to look at Sebastian. 

     In that strange, in between time, Sebastian saw an emerald glow in the other man’s eyes. Something gorgeous and priceless, hidden just inside his head. James was a coiled snake, a hidden blade, a caged lion. He was always lethal, and he always held the potential to be worse. But in this morning, he looked tired. He was always pale, but the filtered light made it look as if he glowed. Their noses brushed.

     “Babe.”

     The word was an embrace. Drowsy and worn-out, it didn’t demand to be answered. It didn’t even ask to be heard. It left James’s mouth like smoke from a fine cigar and danced in the air between their lips. Then, there was no air. Just brushing lips and sighing chest. Sebastian pulled him close, arm gentle around the other man’s waist, the gesture more of an embrace than a pull. Their bodies were flush, skin on skin and lips on lips.

     “Morning.” Sebastian muttered, pulling away with a sigh. 

     Again, it was a suggestion. An observation. As if to say,  _ ‘Now that you are in my arms, my morning has started’ _ . But he didn’t have to say that, because he knew that James knew that their love, as simple and carnal as it was, was naked in times like these. It didn’t have to be said, or fucked, or yelled. Their love was a lurking thing. It came in moments like these, moments where their bodies and hearts were intwined. 

     Sebastian rose, propping himself against a maple headboard. The sun spilled onto his olive skin and ancient scars, as if to caress his healing wounds and aged ink. James shifted, his head in Sebastian’s lap. And they sat there, Sebastian’s fingers running slowly through the other man’s hair. They held on to each other and their bedsheets and not much else, and they were fine. Not because they were alone, or because no one was after them, but because they were together.

* * *

 

     Eventually, Sebastian had left the bed. His hair, wild and curly from the long night’s sleep, was eventually slicked back into an acceptable shape. A black suit and leather gloves hid his battle wounds, and he was in his armor. Something changed about both of them when they got out of that bed, as if putting on clothes also meant putting on masks. Sebastian knew James. He knew James the genius, James the mastermind, and James the manipulator. And yet, he never felt afraid. He never feared the possibility that his lover’s words might turn to knives, or that his wrath might become balled fists and bloody knuckles. The two of them knew enough hate already, there was no space for it to grow between them.

     Sebastian was a criminal, by any standard. He killed people. He tortured people. He looked men in the eyes as he ruined their lives. Sebastian was not a good man. In fact, he was well worse than a  _ bad _ man. And yet, he had James. The man who believed in him. The man who saw his potential, his lethality, his sudden fatality, and put it to use. James was not simply a lover. He was Sebastian’s heathen idol, his fortune and terror and rapture. 

     Their love was horrible, evil thing. It was the kind of love that could collapse empires and swallow planets whole. The men were conduits of passion and sound and fury, but every day, when they shed their skin and fell into one another’s embrace, their love was quiet. It would whisper and sneak and bear such simple truths to two men who knew only the sound of locking doors and burning fires. And this was their life. It wasn’t simple or beautiful, but it was theirs, and they were one another’s.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. I based it off of this text post I made: http://destinae.tumblr.com/post/148991879820/i-love-sebastian-moran-i-hope-he-woke-up-this
> 
> The line, "He was Sebastian’s heathen idol, his fortune and terror and rapture." is a near-direct quote from Kim Newman's The Hound of the D'urbervilles (thank you for citing me on this, I've been miscrediting it this whole time)
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope this brought as much joy to you as it did to me.


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